


What the future holds

by TetrodotoxinB



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Fortune Telling, I just think this is how it would play out, I'm not taking sides here, Jack is a little more open to the possibility, Mac is firmly anti-psychics, Mediums, fortune cookie prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 18:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20158210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB
Summary: Mac and Jack visit a medium.





	What the future holds

**Author's Note:**

> Written at a fandom retreat using fortune cookie fortunes as prompts. My prompt was “This is the year when ingenuity stands high on the list.” I read that and knew it had to be a MacGyver fic. I wrote this in like half an hour so if something is a little hinky just squint really hard at it.

“Jack, fortune tellers are con-artists that prey on desperate people using a variety of methods from leading questions to reading micro-expressions. It’s not a valid science.”

Jack shakes his head and wags his finger back and forth. “Nuh uh, man. There was this case a while back, a little girl was missing and the psychic lead the police right to where she was being held.”

Mac resists the urge to roll his eyes for the time being. “And was she in any way involved in the disappearance of the little girl?”

“I mean, not that the police found.”

The way Jack ducks his head when he qualifies his reply makes Mac wonder. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Okay, so the psychic was also a retired KGB agent? So, like, maybe, she had some investigative skills that led her to the answer?”

Mac does roll his eyes at that. “Jack, there has never been a substantiated case where a psychic or a medium or any other person who supposedly has a connection to the ‘great beyond,’” Mac makes sure to use air-quotes to emphasize his complete disbelief, “has been able to confirm anything useful. You know during the Cold War the CIA had a remote viewing program and over the period of several years, using multiple purported ‘seers,’ not a single piece of actionable intel was ever recovered? The only thing they were trying to do was discern the layout of buildings, Jack. They weren’t even-”

Jack waves his hand at Mac and scowls. “Yeah, yeah, alright I get it. Psychics are a hoax, blah blah blah. Why you gotta ruin everything, man?”

“Sorry for educating you,” Mac says turning back to his paperclip bending.

Jack mutters something about destroying happiness and they drive on in silence on the way to the house of their self-described “medium.”

*****

The room smells like every head shop Mac’s ever been in — some weird blend of cheap patchouli, sage, and sandalwood. The medium isn’t quite what he expected. She looks more like a suburban soccer mom (and to be fair, she is), and less like a terribly stereotyped Roma woman. 

“You’re here about the missing satellite,” she states once they’re seated, cups of dandelion tea in hand.

“Yeah,” Jack answers.

The woman nods and closes her eyes, her fingers lightly touching the sphere of pink quartz situated on the table in front of her. She hums and Mac shifts in his chair out of annoyance.

“The satellite is on land.”

_No shit,_ Mac thinks. They wouldn’t be asking a psychic if it was in the ocean.

“It has already been found by people who would make themselves your enemies.”

Yet another thing that Mac already knew from the intel the Phoenix provided.

“We’re more interested in its _current_ location,” Mac says as politely as he can.

The woman hums noncommittally. Time ticks by and Mac watches the second hand round the face of the old grandfather clock twice before she speaks again.

“This is the year when ingenuity stands high on the list.”

It’s a bit non-sequiter to the reason for their visit and definitely not something that makes a lot of sense, but that doesn’t seem to matter to Jack who giggles furiously. After a moment he stifles it, and then loses his composure and outright laughs. “So just like every other mission?” he asks, turning to face Mac

Jack’s amusement is nothing if not contagious and Mac laughs, too. “Yeah, just like every other mission, Jack.”

Jack shakes his head. “Come on, Mac. You were right. Let’s get out of here.”

They keep it together-ish until they’re in the yard and then they’re both howling with laughter, Jack clapping his hand to Mac’s shoulder like he’s drunk and needs the support. It’s not funny, not really. Mac’s improvisations save the day but they’re rarely fun. 

“You know, man,” Jack says as he cranks the engine and wiping the last of his laughter tears from his cheeks. “You were right about her. Bunch of hocus pocus. But at least she was right about one thing.”

Mac shakes his head and chuckles. “Yeah, Jack. I guess she was.”


End file.
